Around 5:15 AM, after driving for about five minutes, the construction site came into view. Directly across from it stood my apartment complex.

Sinking into the leather seat felt incredible—but the memory of plowing through that zombie earlier still nagged at me. I pulled over, stepped out, and checked the front. Just a bent bumper and some chipped paint. Nothing serious.

"German engineering really holds up..." I patted the hood—*thump-thump*—already wondering if I should rig some makeshift armor onto this truck. I might not know much, but I could handle basic bodywork and a paint job.

"A bull bar, maybe?"

Back in the driver’s seat, I stared up through the windshield at the pitch-black sky. Should I head to the city hospital first? Check out that helicopter?

It’d been a month since the Apocalypse began. Who’d send a military chopper now? I didn’t know the model, but the Huaguo insignia on its side was unmistakable.

What was their goal?

I wracked my brain but couldn’t figure out why they’d fly to the hospital at this hour.

Guess I’d find out tomorrow.

Just hoping it’d go smoothly—no more mutant monsters.

I turned the key. The engine roared to life—

*Plop.*

A single raindrop hit the windshield.

"Starting already?"

I pressed the window control. The glass slid down slowly, letting in the damp, crisp air. Raindrops sizzled as they hit the hot asphalt, vanishing almost instantly.

The cab was sweltering, but I didn’t dare turn on the AC. Gasoline was too precious now. Not until I found a backup supply.

I drove on. My apartment complex gradually appeared ahead, while the construction site across the street remained sealed behind towering iron gates.

*Dozens of zombies must be trapped inside,* I thought. *Maybe even hundreds. Construction workers were tough—turned zombies would be strong. Could even spawn Mutant Monsters...*

Thankfully, those things stuck to their own territory. They shouldn’t wander over to my neighborhood.

Honestly, since getting home, I’d been torn: find other survivors and band together? Or fortify my apartment and go solo?

Both options had pros and cons.

If I looked ordinary—if I were still *me*—I’d choose a group. Safety in numbers, mutual support. That wasn’t just an empty saying.

But now...

Even with my old high standards—having seen endless uncensored adult content, Japanese adult films, you name it—I’d never seen a woman online who matched my current face. Not without extreme Photoshop and makeup, anyway.

And that was the problem. Others could strip off makeup, dress down, blend in. But me?

No matter how I tried to hide it, this face drew attention. I didn’t even know how to apply makeup to make myself look plain.

So if I joined a Survivor Base, I’d have to watch my back—not just from zombies, but from fellow humans.

Going solo avoided that... but surviving alone was far riskier. Things a team could handle easily became impossible for one person.

It was a brutal dilemma. I still hadn’t decided. One step at a time.

If push came to shove... solo might be safer.

Especially with that mysterious "Transcendent State." If I mastered it and minimized the side effects, I could survive the Apocalypse alone—as long as I didn’t get reckless.

The truck rolled to a stop beneath my building. I killed the engine.

Lucky break—the rain muffled the sound. On a clear day, zombies nearby would’ve swarmed the noise. But now, the downpour swallowed everything.

"Heaven’s helping me..."

I reclined the seat. No rush. Pulled a Changbaishan cigarette from my pocket, flicked open my Zippo with a *click*, and took a long drag. A button under the seat adjusted it electrically—this truck spoiled you.

Stretching, my joints melted into the plush leather.

"This seat... is heaven."

Drowsiness crept in. As I stretched, my elbow brushed something on the backseat.

*Plink.*

A tiny sound—but in this world, every noise mattered.

I whipped around.

Just a black cap. A common baseball cap.

"Phew... scared me half to death."

I grabbed it. High-quality fabric. Slipped it on—and felt extra space at the crown.

*Wait...*

I remembered the female corpse in the parking garage. Her hair had been longer than mine. Could this...

*Hold long hair?*

I shook my hair loose, gathered it, then pulled the cap down over it from below. Snug. Perfect.

A cool breeze kissed the back of my neck—the long-forgotten caress of wind on skin.

"Finally... tamed this hair."

That first green mutant had nearly killed me by grabbing my hair. Today was different. Tools. Supplies. And now, a cap to hide my greatest weakness.

Then—

Amid the drumming rain, a new sound cut through:

*Whirr-thump... whirr...*

Every nerve snapped awake. I lunged upright, flicked on the wipers—*swish-swish-swish*—clearing the downpour from the glass.

And there it was.

In the distance.

Helicopter!!